


Through the Darkness and the Shadows

by the_genderman



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Transformation, Beast!Bucky, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Canon-Typical Violence, Cat Bucky Barnes, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, well bucky isn't exactly the Winter Soldier but he's not NOT the Winter Soldier either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 02:19:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17215184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_genderman/pseuds/the_genderman
Summary: Steve’s a recent graduate, struggling to get by with his art degree. He doesn’t regret his choice of degree, no, but he certainly wishes it paid better. He reluctantly takes a job as a night janitor at SHIELD, the agency-slash-facility that sprung up in Manhattan after the alien invasion. It’s not glamorous, but it’ll pay the bills.Assuming he doesn’t get into too much trouble in this new job.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Much canon-divergence, wow. This SHIELD is _kind_ of like canon-SHIELD except they’re in New York instead of Washington, and branched off from the SSR in response to the Chitauri invasion. This fic is probably taking place late 2012-ish? The Avengers are not really a thing. SSR agents Romanoff and Barton, Iron Man, the Hulk, and Thor came together to defeat the aliens, but they went their separate ways afterwards because Tony wanted to keep doing his own thing, and Thor went home. Bruce has a lab in Stark Tower, and occasionally helps out SHIELD if they get really weird cases. Natasha and Clint followed Fury over to SHIELD.
> 
> Title extracted from “The Mob Song” from Beauty and the Beast. AU is modern Beauty and the Beast-adjacent.
> 
> Also, wow did this thing get out of control. When I started, I thought _maybe_ 5K words, if I worked for it. Yeah.

It was Steve’s third day, first night shift, on the job and he was _pretty_ sure he was lost. Day one had been onboarding, meeting his immediate supervisors, and reading and signing all the necessary paperwork one had to sign in order to work for SHIELD. He wasn’t an agent, not even something like IT support, he was a janitor, and he still had _hours’_ worth of paperwork to read and sign before they’d let him get his badge and start working. Day two had been finishing his paperwork and getting a full tour of the huge building and an introduction to some of the other people he might or might not encounter during his official working hours. He was supposed to work nights after most of the office workers had gone home, but in an organization as large and complex as SHIELD, there would always be some people working, staffed around the clock. It was his job to collect trash, vacuum the cube farms, and generally not draw attention to himself.

No problem, right? He was short and skinny, easily overlooked, so this job ought to play right into the skillset he usually wished he didn’t have. All fine and dandy until he took a wrong turn somewhere looking for the trash dock and ended up in a poorly lit hallway somewhere in the bowels of the building. Not his fault, he asked the talking elevator to take him to the trash dock, and it had deposited him down here. He rolled his cart past darkened offices, long stretches of blank walls, windowless doors, and thick-windowed rooms he thought might be laboratories of some sort. All the doors had keycard access pads and no identifying labels or anything useful for a lost employee. He kept walking.

Steve stopped, stilling his cart and listening. He glanced around, trying to figure out what had pinged in his brain. _Something_ had caught his attention, that was for certain. It almost felt like he was being watched. His mind played back, trying to recall some of the more unusual things he had read in his onboarding paperwork. Robots? Maybe it was a security robot moving around? He shrugged internally and took a step forward.

And immediately halted again. That click had _not_ come from his cart or anything on it. He wheeled around, scanning the shadows for the source of the sound, and hating the rising sense of panic he was feeling. This was how horror movies started, a lone janitor cleaning a lab where some alien experiment had escaped its enclosure unbeknownst to the scientists in charge of it. Steve pulled out his cell phone and immediately cursed. No signal. The second-fanciest building in Manhattan (sorry, SHIELD, nothing compared to the Stark Industries building for sheer fanciness) and he still couldn’t get a signal down here. _Ugh_. There was a strict no audio recording, no video, no photography rule, and they’d scanned his phone for bugs or other passive recording software or apps, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t use his phone as a flashlight. He swiped until he found the flashlight app, tapped it on, and slowly swung his phone around in a wide arc, illuminating the hallway he had walked down.

Steve almost dropped his phone when through one of the thick glass windows, he thought he saw a flash of reflected light like an animal’s eyes in the darkness.

Steve _did_ drop his phone when he heard an angry voice behind him.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing down here?”

Steve spun around to face the speaker, throwing his hands up when he saw the weapon (gun? Taser? He didn’t know and didn’t particularly want to know) pointed at him.

“I’m Steve, the new janitor?” Steve answered, hands still at his shoulders. “I think I might be lost?”

The man lowered his weapon slightly and sighed loudly. He muttered something that Steve thought sounded like ‘idiot,’ and stomped over to Steve. He grabbed at the ID badge dangling from Steve’s beltloop and, apparently satisfied with his identity, holstered the weapon and motioned for Steve to put his hands down.

“Well, Steve, I’m Agent Rumlow, and I’m going to have to have a word with whoever was supposed to show you around the building and where you’re not supposed to go,” Rumlow explained with a grumble. “You tripped an alarm down this hallway, so they sent me to investigate. And now I’m going to have to file a report that no, there wasn’t anything wrong, just a janitor who got lost and ended up where he shouldn’t’ve been, so I’m gonna tell you not to come down here again. I don’t know how you managed it, your card shouldn’t even let you, so don’t do it again, ok?”

“Yes sir, I’ll try not to do it again, Agent,” Steve said, swallowing hard. He was getting a feeling that he didn’t like this man very much, but only one of them was armed and they were in a dark hallway in the middle of the night in a highly classified building, so Steve didn’t think arguing would be a great idea. “Um, you wouldn’t know where the trash dock is, would you?”

“How the hell should I know?” Rumlow shrugged. “That’s not my job. I’m gonna put you back on the main elevator, you can figure it out from there, I bet.”

Steve stooped to pick up his phone and glanced back before letting Agent Rumlow lead him to the elevator. The lights were gone, but the feeling of being watched remained. He shook it off and went with the agent.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve cursed quietly. It was his third week on the job. It had been 19 days since he had last gotten lost. And here he was, lost again. He cursed the architects for designing the hallways to all look so similar. He cursed the people in charge for not having proper signage. He cursed his cell phone carrier for not having a signal in this building (although, to be fair, that might be a deliberate thing on SHIELD’s part). He cursed himself for managing to get lost despite his usually solid sense of direction.

And to make things worse, he thought it was the same hallway he had stumbled down when he got lost before. He didn’t know what kind of alarm he had tripped before, he didn’t know if he had tripped it again, and he was not looking forward to another visit by Agent Rumlow. He hadn’t had to interact too much with the surly agent much during his usual rounds, thankfully, but when he did, it felt like Rumlow was deliberately making things difficult for him.

“ _Asshole_ ,” Steve said louder and with more feeling than he had meant to.

_Something_ moved behind the window to his left.

Steve twisted reflexively to face the window and found himself staring at a very tall, bipedal shape. He pulled his phone slowly out of his pocket and found the flashlight app again. Turning it on a low power setting, he lifted it up to try to get a better look at whatever this thing? creature? was. Through the glare and reflections on the glass, the light illuminated a humanoid creature, but one who certainly wasn’t human. Steve stared into an almost feline face with pointed ears, pale blue eyes, short curved horns erupting from just above its eyebrows, and a mane of dark hair more like human hair than a lion’s. Its body was covered in shaggy reddish brown fur, a shade lighter than its mane. Its right arm was wiry-muscular and furred like its body, ending in a clawed, bear-like hand; the left arm was a dully metallic construction, slightly too small for its body size and far more human in appearance. A lithe, feline tail swept slowly back and forth behind it. Steve’s eyes swept downwards, paused, widened, and then shot back upwards. His face reddened slightly. Not it. He. _That’s a penis_. There’s a naked cat-beast-man in the basement of his job. 

The cat-beast-man lifted his right hand and pressed his palm to the window, staring down at Steve. Steve stared back, thoroughly confused. 

“What—who are you?” Steve asked. His phone’s flashlight turned itself off on its own. He tried to turn it back on, but it wouldn’t cooperate. _This better not be related to whatever SHIELD did to it when they onboarded me_ , he thought. He shoved his phone back in his pocket and looked back up at the cat-beast-man, letting his eyes adjust to the ambient hallway light.

The cat-beast-man’s mouth opened, like he was preparing to speak, but he quickly closed it again. His ears swiveled and he turned his head. He pressed both hands to the glass, leaning in and trying to look down the hallway. The cat-beast-man’s eyes widened and his ears flattened to his head. He hissed. Steve turned to see what he was seeing.

An unfortunately familiar silhouette of a person was jogging down the hallway towards them. 

A tap on the glass turned Steve’s attention back to the cat-beast-man. The cat-beast-man looked him dead in the eye and spoke one word. “ _Run!_ ”

Steve hesitated. He was inclined to listen to the cat-beast-man, but then again, Rumlow was armed and already knew who Steve was. And if he didn’t realize it was Steve yet, the abandoned janitor’s cart would give away his identity quickly enough.

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” Steve replied softly with a subtle shake of his head.

The cat-beast-man scrutinized Steve, then melted back into the shadows behind the curtain hanging from the ceiling in his room/enclosure.

“Ugh, you?” Rumlow said with obvious distaste as he pulled up in front of Steve. “How do you keep getting down here?”

Steve declined to mention this was only his second time in this particular hallway. “I don’t know, Agent, I asked the elevator to take me down to shipping and receiving and I ended up down here again. What’s that tarp in there for, is this section new construction?” he said instead, feeling like bringing up the cat-beast-man would be a very bad decision.

Rumlow scowled and glanced quickly towards the window where the cat-beast-man had stood moments before. “Yeah, and no one but security and the workers are supposed to be down here while it’s under construction, and nobody at night,” he said. “First thing I’m gonna need you to do when you clock in tomorrow is go to HR and get them to fix your badge. I’ll be waiting for you, so don’t think you can wiggle out of it.” He jabbed his finger into Steve’s chest to emphasize his point.

“Of course, sir,” Steve replied, trying to keep his irritation at having to act deferential to Rumlow out of his voice. “I’ll be there.”

“Good,” Rumlow said. “Now grab your cart. I gotta take you back up where you belong.”


	3. Chapter 3

The third time Steve found himself down on what he was calling “the restricted section” was absolutely not an accident. It wasn’t one of his scheduled working days, for starters. His badge had been scanned and updated to Rumlow’s approval and Steve had promised he would try his best to not get lost again. He even took a remedial quiz on the SHIELD building map and let the on-site nurse give him a basic eye exam (his current contacts prescription was still fine, no surprise to himself). Anything to get Rumlow off his back. So of _course_ he snuck in to work on his day off to try to talk to the cat-beast-man in the basement.

Steve hadn’t figured out where the alarm was in the hallway or what kind of alarm it was or what triggered it, but he was willing to risk it. He had an idea. It was a terrible idea, but per the security check, his card was never supposed to have let him down there in the first place, and given the fact that post-check it was still letting him in… in for a penny, in for a pound. He darted down the hallway to the window where he had seen the cat-beast-man. There was a windowless door next to it with a badge scanner. _Here goes nothing_ , Steve thought, and pressed his badge to the scanner pad.

The light turned green and Steve heard a click. He pushed the door open, slipped inside, closed it behind him, and found himself in near pitch blackness. There were two tiny red lights at about badge scanner height, one in front of him and one behind him. He held his hands out, walked slowly forward, and leaned his hip up against the presumed scanner. 

It beeped and turned green. A lock clicked. Steve fumbled to find the doorknob, turned it, and pushed this second door open. He stepped into the doorway, holding the door as he scanned his environment. The room was small, dark, about the size of a typical college dorm, and very sparsely furnished. He thought he could make out a large trunk of some sort that could double as a small table and a tarp-like curtain hanging from the ceiling across the middle of the room, offering some semblance of privacy. There was another badge scanner next to this door; Steve gave his badge a test scan, watched the light turn green, and, with rising confidence, stepped into the room. He shut the door softly behind him.

As soon as the door clicked shut, the curtain wavered as if caught in a light breeze, and a dark shape flew at Steve, knocking him heavily to the floor.

“You?” a rough voice asked. “How did you get in here? Are you working for them, too?” The cat-beast-man stared down at Steve, eyes piercing.

Steve groaned, trying to form a reply with the weight on his chest. “Who’s ‘them’? SHIELD? I’m just a janitor, but I do officially work for SHIELD.”

The weight lessened slightly, but the cat-beast-man kept Steve pinned to the ground. He glanced around, ears swiveling. His ears ceased their swivel, pricked and alert. He turned back to Steve.

“If you don’t work for _Them_ ,” the cat-beast-man said cryptically, emphasis on ‘them,’ “you’ll get in that trunk right now and not make a sound until I open it again, understood?”

Steve nodded quickly, the cat-beast-man moved fluidly off of him, and flipped the lid of the trunk open. Steve scrambled up onto his hands and knees, crawling to the box. The cat-beast-man hefted him in, helped him curl into a not-as-uncomfortable position on top of some clothes and a few books, and shut the lid. Steve listened, but all he could hear was his own breathing and heartbeat amplified in the confined space of the trunk.

Steve twitched (there wasn’t room enough to jump) when the sound of a fist pounding against thick glass broke the silence.

“I know you’re back there!” came Rumlow’s voice, distorted, but still clearly _him_.

Steve’s heartrate spiked. What if they had installed cameras after he had tripped the alarm the second time? What if they knew he was in here?

“Hey, furball! Get over here before I call the boss! No one’s gonna be happy if I have to get him involved,” Rumlow ordered.

A moment of silence, then Steve heard Rumlow’s voice again.

“ _Finally_. Oh, jeez, what is wrong with you? We gave you pants, _wear_ them.”

“They itch,” the cat-beast-man said flatly. “Is that why you woke me up? To talk about pants?”

“Don’t get an attitude with me or you’re gonna regret it later. I got some questions for you,” Rumlow said. “You see a little blond dumbass janitor come down this hallway?”

“I was asleep,” the cat-beast-man lied.

“Did you _hear_ anything?”

“Not until you knocked.”

“Well _something_ tripped the alarm.”

“Probably rats.”

“God, you’re useless.”


	4. Chapter 4

There was a protracted silence, then the lid of the trunk swung open. Steve blinked and clambered awkwardly back into a sitting position. He wasn’t sure how long it had actually been, but he was stiff already.

“I don’t think he’ll be back tonight,” the cat-beast-man said, gently helping Steve get out of the trunk. “Who are you? And why are you here?”

“I’m Steve, and, honestly? Curiosity,” Steve replied, standing up and stretching. 

Steve would swear the cat-beast-man quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Alright, the first two times I got lost, but this time really was curiosity,” Steve said. “Who are you and what are you doing down here? Are you an alien?”

The cat-man-beast sighed tiredly and scratched the back of his neck. “I wish it was that easy to explain. This,” he held up his metal left arm, “might be alien, hell if I know, but the rest of me is—or was—human. My name’s Bucky, and I wish I could say someone’s out there looking for me, but it’s unlikely.”

“You don’t have a family?” Steve asked quietly.

“I do,” Bucky answered, “but I was in Manhattan when the aliens invaded. My family probably thinks I died or ran away. I’d gone out to clear my head; just got on a train, probably meant to head into Central Park, walk it off. I must have been just about around ground zero when it all started. Something hit me, there was a lot of pain, a lot of blood, and I blacked out. Next thing I remember, I had this thing,” he wiggled the fingers on his left hand, “and I was in some kind of hospital room, but I couldn’t speak and everything was spinning, but I wasn’t hairy yet and I definitely didn’t have a tail or horns, and then I was down here, looking exactly like I do now. I don’t know what happened or how long it’s been, but I’m pretty sure no one except you and a few select assholes know I’m down here. Wherever _here_ is. The guys call themselves HYDRA, but that doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“HYDRA?” Steve said, wrinkling his nose. “Weren’t they one of the bad guys in World War II? Ugh, if I knew SHIELD had Neo-Nazis, I’d never have agreed to work here. I thought I’d done my research pretty well, they looked legit. Wait, you said the aliens? That was _months_ ago. Have you been down here for that long?”

“I guess?” Bucky replied unsurely. “Time doesn’t really mean a whole lot in here.”

“Why? What do they want with you?”

“Dunno, they’ve never said. Every so often they take me out and try some experimental drug or another on me and run a bunch of tests, but nothing’s ever happened, as far as I can tell. I don’t feel any different, and they don’t seem happy.”

“And you let them?” Steve asked before he could stop himself. It was a stupid question and he knew it.

Bucky just glared at him. “Does it look like I’m doing this because I want to?”

“No. Sorry, stupid question,” Steve apologized. “I’m gonna ask another stupid question and guess that you don’t particularly want to stay down here, right?”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Bucky replied with a half laugh.

“Well alright then, let’s get out of here,” Steve laughed back. He walked over to the badge scanner and swiped his badge.

Nothing happened.

He swiped again.

The light remained stubbornly red.


	5. Chapter 5

“That’s not good,” Steve muttered. He put his hands on his hips and glared at the scanner like that would make it change its mind.

“Don’t tell me you got in here without making sure you could get back out,” Bucky said, leaning over Steve’s shoulder. 

“It worked when I came in, I don’t know what happened,” Steve answered.

“Well that’s great,” Bucky said. Steve couldn’t hear him walk away, but he felt the slight breeze as he turned and moved.

Steve pulled out his phone. Sixty-two percent battery and still no service, surprise, surprise. He turned his phone off to save battery and put it back in his pocket.

“They have to feed you, right?” Steve asked, turning to face Bucky. “How do they get food in here?”

“Through that door,” Bucky said, gesturing loosely in the direction of the door that wasn’t opening. “They put the tray in the vestibule and unlock the inner door remotely. I _could_ get in there and wait, but they’d never open the outer door. I tried it once. I sat in there for three days in the dark until I got too hungry and eventually they unlocked the inner door and let me back in here.”

“And they never have both doors open at the same time?”

“Nope.”

“ _Can_ they have both doors open at the same time or is it on an airlock type sequence?”

“How should I know? I’m just the lab rat.”

“How do they take you out for the drug tests?” Steve asked, starting to run through scenarios. He knew Bucky had probably already tried all of them, but he was a lot smaller and maybe HYDRA didn’t realize he was in here.

“Some sort of airborne tranquilizer, I think?” Bucky replied, leaning back against the wall and folding his hands in his lap. The tip of his tail twitched restlessly. “All I know is one minute I’m in here, next thing I know I’m strapped down to a table in some lab.”

“I’m gonna get you out of here,” Steve said firmly.

Bucky laughed, a loud wheezing laugh. He slapped the floor, claws clicking against the concrete. “You can’t get yourself back out, how are you going to get _me_ out?”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“Whatever.”

Steve sat down on the floor opposite Bucky, crossing his legs and closing his eyes to think.

\---------

“Do they ever turn the lights on down here?” Steve asked, breaking the silence.

“Hmuh?” Bucky said, sounding like he had been jolted awake by the question. “Lights? Yeah, sometimes. No schedule to ‘em, though.”

“Do they turn the lights on when they send your food in?”

“Sometimes.”

“So, if you were to sit with your back up against the very end of the short wall next to this door,” Steve began, jabbing his thumb at the door, “and they didn’t turn the lights on, and I tucked up real small and hid right behind you, it would be possible they wouldn’t see me so I could slip through the door when they open it so you can get your food?”

“Presumably yes,” Bucky answered. “But then you’d be stuck in the vestibule. What’s that gonna do for either of us?”

Steve hummed and shifted. “I thought that, if I’m in there, when they go to open the outer door next, I can surprise them and try to make a run for it.”

“That’s a terrible idea,” Bucky snorted, “but I am very tempted to let you try because you seem just stubborn enough to make it work.”

“So you’ll help me?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, I’ll help you,” Bucky replied, climbing to his feet and stretching. He crossed the small room and settled back into a sitting position against the short wall. “Lean up against my back and try to keep your feet out of the way of the door. They might notice if it doesn’t swing open right.”

“Will-do,” Steve said as he scooted across the floor and turned to press his back to Bucky’s, trying not to sit on Bucky’s tail. Bucky was large and warm, his fur sliding softly against Steve’s shirt, the muscles of his back solid. Steve tucked his legs up and wrapped his arms around them. Compact, but ready to move as soon as the opportunity came. “Bucky? Can you see my reflection in the glass?”

A subtle shift of muscles, then “Nope, I think you’re good. As long as you don’t get a cramp, that is.”

“I’ll try not to.”


	6. Chapter 6

A knock on the glass nearly startled Steve into moving. He was a little stiff, but fully awake again. Bucky yawned ostentatiously behind him. Thankfully, it was still dark. Steve got ready to move.

“Rise and shine, kitty. Kibble’s coming in,” an unfamiliar voice mocked. (At least it wasn’t Rumlow, Steve thought.)

“Yeah, yeah, send it in,” Bucky said, sitting tight.

“You could at least pretend to be excited about it.”

“Well you assholes woke me up in the middle of the night to ask me some stupid question about nothing, so excuse me for not being all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning,” Bucky snarked back.

“Watch your tone and eat your breakfast, ok?”

The lock clicked and the door swung open. Steve darted into the dark vestibule, making sure not to trip over Bucky’s breakfast. He heard Bucky yawn again, then he was there in the doorway, collecting his flimsy cardboard breakfast tray. He rested his paw briefly on Steve’s shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze, and then he was out again. Bucky casually kicked the door shut and Steve was enveloped in darkness.

\--------------

Steve sat and waited. 

And waited.

And _waited_.

And still nothing. He listened for movement, either from the hallway or from within Bucky’s cell, but heard nothing. Maybe they were still out there, watching Bucky, waiting for some undetermined _something_. Steve almost considered trying his badge again on the door to the hallway. Even if they _were_ still out there, it would give him the element of surprise if the door suddenly swung open on them.

He listened again, but still heard nothing.

Better to wait.

\-----

Steve was tired of waiting. 

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been in here, hadn’t bothered to turn his phone back on to check the time, but it felt like long enough that he was willing to push his luck. Steve stood up, turned his badge over in his fingers, took a breath, and pressed it to the scanner. 

The light turned green.

Quickly swinging the door outward, Steve stepped out into the hallway, ready to run if he needed, but the hallway was empty. He peered around, up and down the hall, but he saw no one, heard nothing. There was no one charging down the hall to find why the door had opened.

 _Oh, what the hell_ , he thought. Steve swiped the inner door’s badge scanner.

That light, too, turned green. Steve was a little confused, but he wasn’t about to question his luck. Holding the outer door open, he grabbed the handle of the inner door and pulled it open.

“Bucky, come on, I don’t know what happened, but my badge works again. We should probably hurry, though,” Steve said as loud as he dared.

Bucky stepped into the doorframe, his hackles raised and tail puffed out warily. “The fuck?”

“I don’t know what happened, but I’ll take it,” Steve said, beckoning with his fingers. “Grab anything you can’t afford not to grab and come on.”

“I got nothing special in there,” Bucky said. “Lead on.” He followed Steve suspiciously out into the hallway, tensed and ready to run. Even hunched over, he still loomed over Steve. “Which way do we go?”

“This way,” Steve said, pointing to the left. “There’s stairs this way. It’s a bit of a climb, but it’s probably safer than taking the elevator.”

“What are we going to do when we get out? Assuming we don’t run into HYDRA or anyone else before then,” Bucky asked, ready to follow Steve’s lead.

“We’ll find out when we get there, eh?” Steve said with a half-hearted laugh and began to jog down the hallway.

Keeping a wary eye out, Steve moved down the corridor as quickly as he felt comfortable. He knew he’d probably tripped the alarm again, which would mean someone would be sent to find out who or what had set it off. If they moved too quickly, he might miss the sound of approaching feet. If they moved too slowly, they’d surely get caught. Reaching the stairs, he swiped his badge and breathed a silent prayer that it was cooperating again. And sincerely hoping that it wouldn’t fail him again.

“Up we go,” Steve said as much to Bucky as to himself. They began to climb.

\-----

The sound of a door slamming open below them nearly made Steve lose his footing. Bucky caught him, and they exchanged a look. 

“I know you’re up there!” a familiar angry voice yelled.

“You gonna run now?” Bucky asked, fear tinging his voice.

Steve just nodded. He ran, feet pounding the steps, lungs getting tighter the further he went. Bucky dropped to all fours, sprinting up the stairs three, four at a time. He reached the next landing, turned back to Steve, glanced up, glanced down, and back to Steve again. The shouts from below were getting louder.

“We’re not gonna make it,” Bucky said, the fear overt now. “If I carried you, we might have a chance. Would you let me?”

It wouldn’t be dignified, but Steve much preferred the idea to getting caught by HYDRA. “Ok,” he panted. 

Bucky took Steve’s hand as he reached the landing, carefully scooping up into his arms, making sure he was secure and reasonable comfortable before launching himself back up the stairs. It was an odd experience, one arm cold, hard, unyielding metal, the other warm, furred, and well-muscled. Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s torso, holding on as tightly as he could. As they jolted up the stairs, Steve could feel and hear Bucky’s breathing. He pressed his face to Bucky’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. 

They ran.

Bucky made it up two more flights of stairs before a shout far too close below him stopped him in his tracks. He turned to look back at Rumlow and a half-dozen HYDRA members, all armed, all focused on one target. 

“Seriously? _You_ again?” Rumlow said with a sigh of disgust when he saw Steve. “You know, you are one persistent pain in the ass. I should’ve dealt with you the first time I found you down there. ‘Is this construction?’ no one’s that dumb. Give us our asset back, and maybe we’ll let you live.”

“Wow, very convincing argument,” Steve snarked, unable to contain himself. “He’s not yours.”

“Well he sure as hell ain’t _yours_ ,” Rumlow snapped back.

Bucky growled, low and dangerous.

“Here’s an offer, for both of you,” Rumlow said, his voice calm on the surface, but hiding a deep well of anger. “Surrender now or we shoot. I mean, it sure would be a shame to lose such an important experiment as this, but eh, it’s been a lot more trouble than we expected. Might be best just to wipe this slate and start over.”

The opposing parties stood silent and tense, each waiting for the other to make a move. Steve and Bucky both knew they were outnumbered and outgunned, but neither of them was willing to surrender so easily. And they both knew it. They’d only known each other for less than a whole day, but somehow they just _knew_. Something clicked high above them.

Everyone, Steve, Bucky, HYDRA, looked up just in time to see what looked like some kind of party trick arrow explode into a cloud of gas.


	7. Chapter 7

Tear gas, or something very like it, clouded out around them. Bucky howled, tail lashing. Steve gave a wheezing gasp as the gas settled in. He choked. Bucky coughed, but found his senses long enough to start moving again, hoping to get himself and Steve up out of the gas. An electric crackle, and two HYDRA men groaned and fell to the stairs. Another crackle, two more fell. The remaining three HYDRA men found their wits and began firing, bullets pocking the walls of the stairwell, tinging off metal far above them. Bucky charged up the stairs, still trying to catch his breath, to get to clean air, trying to stay out of the line of fire. Steve’s eyes were streaming tears, blurring his vision. He couldn’t tell what was happening in the chaos.

“Stop and identify yourself!” an authoritative male voice from above them commanded.

Bucky ignored the order, continuing to climb. More gunshots, more electric crackles, two more thumps, coughing, and footsteps on the stairs. Bucky yowled in pain, stumbled, and dropped Steve, clutching his left side. Another crackle of electricity, a grunt from below them, and footsteps descending. Steve blinked, trying to clear his eyes, trying to ignore the pain of being dropped onto the stairs. The heavier-than-air gas followed gravity down the stairwell, but his eyes and lungs still burned. He rose to his knees, fumbling his way over to Bucky.

“Bucky?” Steve said, reaching his side again. “You’re bleeding!” he added, when his hand touched a patch of wet fur.

“I’ve had worse,” Bucky cough-laughed.

“Identify yourselves,” the voice asked again, but with slightly less force.

“He’s not going back!” Steve answered, bracing himself over Bucky, who was curled into a loose fetal position. He still couldn’t see very well, but he thought there were three figures coming down the stairs towards them.

“Yeah, what he said,” Bucky said, trying to pretend he wasn’t in pain.

“Go back where?” a different male voice asked them.

“Who are _you_?” Steve asked, turning the question back on them.

“We’re with SHIELD,” a new, female, voice answered.

“Yeah, well, so were they, _supposedly_ ,” Steve said, still shielding Bucky with his body. He knew it wouldn’t make much of a difference, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying.

“No, like, we’re _actually_ SHIELD,” the second male voice replied. “They’re HYDRA, we’re not. Hence why Agent Romanoff zapped them. So, who are you? And who’s the cat dude?”

“I’m nobody, just the janitor,” Steve answered, still not completely trusting them, “but he’s not going anywhere without me.”

“That’s nice,” the first male voice cuts in. “Do you have a problem with someone taking both of you up to Medical? You’re kind of bleeding all over the floor, and while I understand not trusting us—hell, I wouldn’t trust us if I were you—it’ll be a lot cheaper and easier to get you patched up so you can explain what the hell happened in here than to get forensics involved after the fact.”

“He’s got a point,” Bucky mumbled. 

“It’s your call,” Steve said, finding Bucky’s right hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I would like to not bleed out, please,” Bucky said.

“Listen to your friend,” the female voice said with a subsumed laugh. “He knows what’s good for _both_ of you.”


	8. Chapter 8

When Bucky asked to be taken to Medical, Steve relented. He knew it was the right decision, but he still found it hard to trust SHIELD after having found Bucky in that basement cell. Steve allowed them treat his tear gas exposure and bruising, but only enough to get him back up and on his feet again. He insisted on watching Bucky’s surgery to remove the bullet and treat the wound, making sure for himself that they weren’t doing anything unnecessary. The three SHIELD agents, a middle-aged Black man with an eyepatch and what seemed like a permanent scowl, a younger red-haired woman with a slight Russian accent and a fondness for bad jokes, and a blond man a little older than her who indulged her bad joke habit, seemed to be taking turns watching him and Bucky. Steve wasn’t sure if he should be flattered or offended by the attention.

Steve sat at the glass, watching the surgeons at work. None seemed particularly fazed by their patient’s unusual appearance. What the hell kind of place _was_ SHIELD?

When the surgery had finished, Agent Romanoff ( _please, call me Natasha_ ), the red-haired agent, came to collect Steve to get his statement about the events that had transpired. She was thorough and efficient, but not without compassion for what he had been through. After all the questions had been asked, all the statements made, all the papers signed, she escorted Steve back up to Medical to wait for Bucky to wake up.

Bucky had been placed in a private room for recovery with a guard at the door, but Steve’s worries had begun to dissipate. This was for Bucky’s protection, not to keep him locked up. The guard nodded at Steve and stepped aside to let him enter. Steve took his sentinel’s position in the chair beside Bucky’s bed and waited for him to wake. Tucked under hospital blankets, head lolling slightly to the side, tongue just peeking out of his mouth, he looked soft, smaller than his size. Steve felt oddly protective; he reached out his hand to cover Bucky’s under the blanket.

\----------------

Bucky blinked, waking slowly. He grunted and yawned, trying to stretch a little. This bed was soft and there was diffuse sunlight, so he wasn’t in his cell anymore.

“How are you feeling?” Steve asked, his voice warm and kind.

 _Steve_. Steve was here. Steve had gotten him out.

“I feel like I got shot,” Bucky teased.

Steve snort-laughed and frowned at him, the corners of his mouth curling upwards. There was a knock at the door.

“Am I interrupting?” an unassuming man with curly, dark hair and a doctor’s coat and clipboard asked, opening the door and leaning into the room. “I’m Dr. Banner and I was hoping to have a chat with the patient.”

“No problem, come on in,” Bucky replied.

Steve scooted back. He didn’t want to let go of Bucky’s hand, but he should probably let this doctor do his thing. If Bucky trusted him, that was good enough.

“I’ve just got a couple questions,” Dr. Banner said, settling into the other chair and scooting it up next to Bucky’s bed. “It’s about this prosthetic arm of yours. May I ask how long you’ve had it?”

“However long it’s been since the aliens attacked Manhattan,” Bucky answered. “I’m not exactly sure how much time has passed.”

Dr. Banner nodded. “I wondered because the core of the arm appears, at any rate, to be composed of reclaimed Chitauri scrap. Who built the prosthetic?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure. Maybe HYDRA,” Bucky answered. “I wasn’t lucid enough to know for sure. Maybe there’s some papers out there somewhere with my signature on them, maybe they just saw me and decided to slap an experimental arm on me because I wasn’t in any shape to refuse.”

“That would be just like them,” Dr. Banner said almost as an aside. Then, to Bucky. “I can’t say for certain, because I’ve never encountered exactly your condition before, but I believe it might be due at least in part to your prosthetic. The core of the arm is giving off an unusual energy signature. It’s weak and I can’t say for certain it is what I think it is, but I think our best bet would be to try to remove the prosthetic. You can take a couple days to think it over, I don’t think a few more days is going to make a big difference now, given how long you’ve had it.”

“If you gotta take it off, take it off,” Bucky said firmly. “I’ll probably be better off without it, not having HYDRA’s alien scrap metal stuck to me, and all. Although, getting it off won’t make me go back to how I was before, will it?”

“We have no idea why the transformation occurred in the first place,” Dr. Banner said calmly. “Don’t give up hope this early. We’ll wait until you’ve recovered from this surgery, then someone will figure out what will have to happen to remove the arm, talk you through it, make sure you fully understand and consent to everything.”

“What will happen to me if I stay like this?” Bucky asked, suddenly quiet and uncertain.

“Let’s wait until after the surgery. We may never have to discuss that,” Dr. Banner said reassuringly.


	9. Chapter 9

“What’s going to happen to me if I don’t change back?” Bucky asked, pacing the room. Steve sat on the couch, sketching Bucky as he paced.

Dr. Banner had convinced Stark Industries to furnish Bucky a set of living quarters, away from the public eye. It wasn’t perfect, he was still confined to a few floors of one building, but within those floors, he had the freedom to move about, cook his own meals, do yoga at dawn in front of a floor-to-ceiling window high above the city, do so many things he had missed during his HYDRA captivity. Despite his new near-freedom, Bucky had declined to reach out to his family yet—what would he tell them? That their son, their brother, had been transformed into a giant bipedal cat-monster by Nazis with salvaged alien tech? No, too bizarre, too unbelievable. Who would want him as he was in their family? If they were able to change him back, though…

And throughout it all, Steve had been up every day to visit him. Five months now (turns out, trying to figure out how to remove alien technology that’s been embedded into a human body was a tricky procedure), and Steve visited almost every day. He’d pop in for breakfast, to see Bucky before his job started. He’d drop by again in the evening when his work was done. Though SHIELD had begun to crumble from within soon after their escape, damning documents, irrefutable proof of HYDRA activity surfacing, with new reports daily, Steve still needed to earn his living somehow. And, well, Stark Industries could always make room for a new artist, a new graphic designer. Despite the famous name, the business didn’t sell itself, you know.

“Am I just going to trade a circus cage for a private sanctuary?” Bucky continued, throwing his mismatched arms open. “Am I going to be stuck as a furry freak forever?”

“Hey, don’t say that about yourself,” Steve said quickly, looking up from his sketchbook.

“I’m a cat with horns!” Bucky threw back. He held out his right hand and wiggled his fingers at Steve. “I have _claws_.”

“You are so much more than that,” Steve countered. “I’ve heard some of the things you talk to JARVIS about. You’re smart, you’ve got great ideas. I bet if you wanted to work for Mr. Stark, he’d let you. Maybe you’d have to get Dr. Banner to be your reference, but he’d do it, I know he would. You’re not _just_ a cat with horns.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m not in a mood right now to be more than that,” Bucky snapped, turning away from Steve.

Steve looked up at him, pursing his lips, almost frowning. He kept sketching. “Is that you asking to be left alone for the rest of the evening?” Steve asked after a moment of silence. His voice was soft.

“Yeah.”

“Can I come up and see you again tomorrow?”

“If you want to.”

“I do want to. I like spending time with you.”

Bucky didn’t reply. Steve flipped his sketchbook shut, said a quick goodbye, and headed out. 

The door clicked behind Steve and Bucky flopped onto the couch. He knew he shouldn’t antagonize Steve, but sometimes he felt himself pushed to do it anyway. Steve had been there for him throughout the whole ordeal, a staunch friend and an immediate ally since that first chance meeting. But was that real? Bucky thought he wanted Steve to be more than just a friend stopping by for an hour or so, eating dinner together after work. But he knew—realistically—there was no chance of that. Who would want that from him looking like _this_? He wanted Steve, but Steve couldn’t want him back. No one falls in love with an animal. No matter how much someone might like cats, they wouldn’t want to _date_ one. Besides, he was probably just latching onto the first person to be kind to him in a long time. If he told himself he wasn’t falling in love, _maybe_ he would believe it. Maybe he could get out of this without losing a friend by making things _weird_.

Bucky slouched down and held up his hands in front of him, twisting and turning them over. Looking at them, mismatched as they were, and neither truly human. One was a metal facsimile, a pale imitation of a human hand, the other flesh and blood, but furred and clawed like an animal’s. Who was he? _What_ was he? What was going to happen to him?


	10. Chapter 10

_The day of truth has arrived_ , Bucky thought to himself, pulling on a pair of loose sweatpants and a hoodie for his trip down to Dr. Banner’s lab, transformed temporarily into a surgical suite for visiting ex-SHIELD doctors (the ones who _weren’t_ HYDRA) to ply their trade on him. He knew the clothes did nothing to hide his unnatural appearance, but he felt a lot more self-conscious around people who didn’t immediately see him as an experiment. He wasn’t quite sure what they _did_ see him as, but they weren’t cruel. They didn’t treat him like a monster. 

He checked the time again, took a deep breath, and stepped out of his suite. He had considered calling Steve, but no, he would be working. Bucky didn’t want to disturb Steve for this. Even if they did get the arm off, there was no guarantee he’d ever be human again. No, he didn’t want to pull Steve away from a job he loved to worry and wait over a surgery that would, in all probability, leave him the same cat-monster, just minus one arm. He sighed and headed to the elevator. He had an appointment to keep.

\--------------

“Steve not here with you?” Dr. Banner asked as he greeted Bucky.

Bucky shook his head. “He’s got his job, I didn’t want to bother him.”

“Didn’t want to bother—? Did you tell him your surgery was today? He’s going to come looking for you when he realizes you’re not at home, you know,” Dr. Banner said. He didn’t sound judgmental, just explaining the situation like he would the procedure of Bucky’s upcoming surgery.

Bucky shifted on his feet, tail held low, tip flicking.

“Do you not want him here?” Dr. Banner asked gently. “If not, I can say it’s doctor’s orders, you need to rest, no distractions allowed. He won’t be _happy_ about that, but he won’t argue. _But_ , it’ll probably also mean you two’re going to have to have a conversation later. No offense, but you’re not great at hiding your feelings.”

“I just…” Bucky trailed off, scrubbing his right hand down the side of his face, claws leaving furrows in the short fur. “I just, I don’t know. I don’t _know_.”

“It’s ok not to have all the answers right now, but I just need one from you before we begin: Do you want me to tell Steve you’re not to be disturbed while you’re recovering?”

Bucky inhaled deeply, held the breath, then exhaled heavily. “No. If he comes, let him see me.”

“We can do that,” Dr. Banner answered with a kind smile and a nod.

\----------------

Bucky woke slowly, feeling a little lopsided, a little sore, a little fuzzy from the anesthesia, and a little fuzzy from the…. Fur. He was still furry. Well, most of him was furry. The skin they’d shaved for this surgery was pink and bare, and the patch they’d shaved for his previous surgery was still a little shorter than the surrounding fur, but he was definitely still furry. He glanced over at his right hand. Yep, those were still claws. He groaned.

Steve, sitting in a chair in the near corner of the recovery room, looked up from his book.

“How are you feeling?” Steve asked brightly.

“Nguh,” Bucky said morosely. “I’m still a cat.”

“The original change didn’t happen immediately, did it?” Steve asked.

“Well, no…”

“Do you know how long it took?”

“No.”

“Then you can’t say it’s not working yet,” Steve said, ever the optimist.

“Yeah, but are you gonna still be this optimistic if it’s a week later and still nothing? You can’t waste your time on me if I’m gonna be stuck as this beast forever,” Bucky groused.

“‘Waste my time’—?! Bucky, do you really think so poorly of yourself? Of me? Spending time with you isn’t _wasting_ it,” Steve shot back.

“I don’t want you to drag you down. I don’t want to be that one, weird, embarrassing friend who you can’t take anywhere. I love you, but you deserve so much better than that,” Bucky said, clenching his fist in the sheets.

“Hang on, back up, I can’t have heard you right,” Steve said, startled. “Say that again?”

“You deserve better?” Bucky said questioningly.

“No, the part before that where it sounded like you said ‘I love you’,” Steve said, an intensity growing in his voice. He scooted his chair closer to Bucky.

“Ugh, see? Weird and embarrassing,” Bucky said, screwing his eyes shut and wishing his brain-to-mouth filter had been quicker to recover from the anesthesia. “I like you. A lot. Maybe even love, I think so, but I don’t know, really; I’m a _cat_. Anyone would be right to feel uncomfortable about that. And, well, you deserve better than that.”

“Or, maybe you can let me make my own decision about that?” Steve said, his tone firm but not angry. “I like you too, and I’d like to try to make this work. I know it’s gonna be a little weird, nothing either of us were ever prepared for, but that’s life. Do you want to try?”

Bucky made a noncommittal sound.

“I mean, if I’m misinterpreting this, we obviously don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Steve added. “But it sounded to me like you _do_. I want to try, and I would like to ask you to try with me.”

“Ok, but if I haven’t started to change back within a month, I’m calling it off. You can’t tie your whole life to a freak,” Bucky said with some finality to his statement.

Steve frowned.

Bucky frowned back harder at him.

Steve sighed. “Fine. If that’s your terms. Obviously I hope you’re wrong and it’s just a slow change, but if it’s not, then I’d rather have a month with you than nothing. I’m not giving up on you.”


	11. Chapter 11

Three weeks since the surgery to remove the alien prosthetic and Bucky was still a cat-beast. He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, toothbrush dangling from his mouth, running his claws through the shaggy fur covering his chest. He was still furry. He still had horns. Nothing had changed yet. (He doubted that anything _would_ change, at this point. Call him a pessimist, but could you really blame him?)

Three weeks since he’d set his ultimatum and Steve had reluctantly accepted it. He didn’t think it was worth it for Steve to bring over a suitcase of his clothes and stick a toothbrush in Bucky’s bathroom, but if it made Steve happy, maybe he wouldn’t argue with it. If it meant they’d have a month of happiness together, however it happened, he wouldn’t argue. 

Three weeks. And they _had_ been happy, despite it all. He was going to go to bed curled up around Steve, sinking into a big, soft mattress with as many warm blankets as they wanted. He’d listen to Steve’s breathing until they both drifted off to sleep. He’d try not to think about how empty it was going to feel when Steve had to go.

Truthfully, he didn’t _really_ want Steve to go, but he didn’t see any away around it.

Bucky chewed on the toothbrush a bit more, gnawing at it like the thoughts gnawing at his mind. Then, as abruptly as he’d stopped, he started brushing again, finishing up so he could save as much time with Steve as he could.

\-----

Bucky pulled on his pajama pants and climbed into bed with Steve, pulling the thick blankets over them both. Steve shivered a little at the sudden touch of the ambient air (not that cold, but compared to the warmth of the blankets?) and snuggled back against Bucky’s chest as he settled in. 

“Mmm, you’re warm,” Steve murmured sleepily.

“Thanks, I try,” Bucky teased, wrapping his arm around Steve.

“I know you do,” Steve replied, linking his fingers with Bucky’s. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Bucky said, feeling very warm, indeed. He thought that might be the first time Steve had told him he loved him, and he was going to savor that moment.

\--------------------

“Hey, Buck?” Steve shouted from the bathroom, poking his head out the door, robe untied, but still hanging over his shoulders.

“Yeah?” Bucky replied, turning his industrial strength hair dryer off. 

“This might be a weird question, but do you have like, a shedding season or something? Because there is a _lot_ of hair in the shower drain this morning. More than usual, I’d say.”

“Uhhhhh?” Bucky answered. 

“It’s not a big deal, I’ll put some draino and a new hair trap on the grocery list,” Steve said. “I can get the shopping trip in after work today. Anything else you want to add?”

“Maybe some ice cream?”

“Isn’t it too cold for ice cream?”

“Never.”

“Alright, whatever makes you happy. I’ll grab you a pint of Phish Food.”

“I love you, Steve.”

“Love you too, Bucky.”

\------------------

Bucky gave Steve one last quick wave as the elevator doors closed, taking Steve down to start his work day at Stark Industries. Sure, he was still in the same building, but Bucky still missed him every morning when he headed out. His stomach grumbled and he pressed his hand to the bottom of his ribs as he toed the door shut. Usually, though, it didn’t manifest in quite a physical discomfort. Maybe the eggs had passed their best-by date. They _had_ been sitting in the fridge for a while. He tried to stifle a burp. Yeah, breakfast wasn’t exactly agreeing with him, and he thought he might have a headache starting up. Maybe he’d go lie down for a quick nap. Naps made everything better.

\---------------------------

“Hey, Buck, they were out of Phish Food, so I got Vanilla Caramel Fudge and a bottle of chocolate shell instead. Is that ok?” Steve called as he let himself into the suite and began to put the groceries away.

No reply.

Well, Bucky could lose track of time and the outside world when he got really into one of his video games. It took a lot of focus to be able to play-one-handed on a system designed for able-bodied gamers, even with the mods available. Steve popped the ice cream into the freezer and headed down the short hall to peek into the den. If Bucky was playing, he didn’t want to startle him.

No Bucky.

Steve continued on to the bedroom. He found a Bucky-shaped lump under the blankets, tucked all the way up over his head.

“You feeling alright?” Steve asked quietly.

“Mmh, not great, but better than before,” came Bucky’s muffled reply.

“Aww, is it the ‘I’ll feel better if you come in here and cuddle me’ kind of not great, or the ‘please bring me Pepto and a trash can’ kind?” Steve asked.

Bucky paused, the blanket-lump shifted, then he answered. “Cuddles sound good. I don’t think it’s anything contagious.”

“Alright, cuddles incoming,” Steve replied, crossing to the bed. “I’ll stick around until I get too hungry, then I’m gonna heat up some soup for both of us. Cuddles and chicken noodle soup.” He pulled back the blanket to crawl under.

And promptly gave a reflexive gasp.

“Bucky! Why didn’t you tell me?” Steve exclaimed excitedly.

“Didn’t tell you what? I don’t have mange, do I?” Bucky asked, rolling over.

“You didn’t know?” Steve said, surprised. “Look at your hand! Look in the mirror!”

Bucky held his hand up. His _hand_. Not a _paw_ , it was a proper human hand again. He made a strangled sound and kicked the blankets back, a mad scramble to get out of bed and dash into the bathroom. He flailed at the light switch and skidded to a stop in front of the mirror. He patted his face like he was afraid he was hallucinating. This was _real_. He was _human_ again! And, ok, maybe he needed a shave, his stubble was getting a little out of control, but this was what he had looked like before this whole ordeal started. No fur, no horns, no claws, no _tail_.

 _Human_.

He whirled around, grinning from ear to ear, and pulled Steve into a tight embrace.

“Oh my god, Steve, I can’t believe it!” Bucky whooped. “This is…. This is real. This is really real.”

Steve hugged Bucky back, smiling into his shoulder. “See? I knew you’d turn back eventually.”

“No you didn’t,” Bucky said, shaking his head, unwilling to break the hug just yet.

“Ok, maybe not, but I wasn’t gonna give up hope on you,” Steve replied. “And this means your one month ultimatum is null and void, right?”

“Oh, yeah, hah, I suppose it is.”

“Good, because I love you and I don’t wanna leave.”

“Yeah, me too.”


End file.
